


The One

by Sareki



Series: Canon Consistent P/T Universe [13]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, S6E22 Muse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sareki/pseuds/Sareki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(P/T) Muse Coda. Tom is relieved to have B’Elanna back. Rated PG.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of my ‘write something that isn’t dialogue driven’ exercise. Many thanks to RSB, Delwin, and Photogirl1890 for betaing. Seriously. You all have no idea what kind of disaster this was as a first draft.

Tom stood in the Shuttle Bay, taking in her beaten and battered form. Slowly, he approached the mangled remains of the _Delta Flyer_.

_How the hell did B’Elanna survive the crash?_

Earlier that day, he had finally heard their voices. After days spent pacing the ship, long hours standing silently staring at the knickknacks in B’Elanna quarter, he finally knew that Harry and B’Elanna were okay. In the hour it took to reach them, Tom’s attention was not on the helm but instead on imagining his reunion with B’Elanna a hundred different ways. She would jump into his arms. He would spin her around. They would be in the transporter room, in sickbay, in her quarters. But there was one constant: he would never let her go.

When they finally arrived at the L class planet, the captain had given the order to have Harry and B’Elanna beamed directly to sickbay. Tom breathed deeply, trying to focus. And trying not to come up with the one hundred and first version of his reunion with B’Elanna.

“Mr. Paris, I think the Doctor could use your assistance with these two patients.”

Tom had sprung out of his chair with a speed that startled even him. He turned to face the captain. A smile laced with understanding danced across her face.     

“And I’d like a damage report on the _Flyer_ after you’re done in Sickbay.”

“Yes ma’am.” Tom headed directly for the turbolift, his sigh of relief timed perfectly with the swish of the closing door.

In Sickbay, Tom had waited. He checked and rechecked all the standard triage equipment, glancing at the time every few minutes. As he kept his hands busy running quick diagnostics, his imagination now conjured up every way he would never see B’Elanna again. This was the wrong planet. She’s been killed while waiting for them. The planet was in a subspace sinkhole and hundreds of years had passed since she had sent the message. The outlandishness of his imaginings were reaching a crescendo when he saw it.

The transporter beam activated.

But only Harry materialized.

Tom paused, hoping that just momentarily a new beam would appear. But nothing. The Doctor had already started scanning Harry, but Tom had still not moved, unable to process the fact that B’Elanna had not yet appeared.

“She’s fine.” A voice cut through his thoughts. His eyes finally focusing, he saw Harry was smiling at him. Was he so obvious? Did his worry play across his face a stream of incoming sensor data? Harry continued before Tom could gather his thoughts enough to form words. “She’s… in a play.”

“She’s _what_?”

“I’ll let her explain, but… she’ll be here shortly.”

Tom tried to relax, turning his attention to Harry and helping the Doc. He told Harry how he was glad he was okay, asked about what he had been through. But his mind kept floating back to B’Elanna. Tom was only half paying attention to Harry’s tale of his trek through the wilderness when he finally heard it: the telltale whine of the transporter.

And there she was.

B’Elanna was wrapped in a rough spun grey robe, strangely smiling with her arms lifted as though she had just been in conversation with the gods. When she locked eyes with Tom, her smile became even larger.

Tom tossed aside his tricorder. It clattered on the instrument tray and Tom heard the annoyed sound the Doctor produced. But it didn’t matter. He grasped B’Elanna tight in his arms, burying his head in hair, not minding in the slightest that she smelled like she had not bathed in two weeks. His eyes started to water and he tried to swallow away the tightness in his throat.

She was here. She really was okay.

Suddenly, she was pulling back from him, staring up at him, her eyes bright. “I have so much to tell you about, Tom,” she said before giving him a quick kiss.

The Doctor soon placed himself in the middle of their reunion, demanding that B’Elanna sit down long enough to be examined. Like Harry, she was in good health, aside from some malnutrition and exhaustion.

With a relatively clean bill of health, B’Elanna was free to go. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist as they walked to her quarters. She told him about the crash, about waking up tied to a chair with a man practicing medieval medicine on her. Once in her quarters, B’Elanna went directly to the replicator, ordering herself a meal before asking if he wanted anything.

He declined.

Sitting at her table, he watched as she shoveled food in her mouth while telling him about her play. A bit of salad flew from her mouth as she excitedly spoke about Kelis… and about the love scene between Chakotay and Janeway. He laughed at her overly dramatic rendition of it before attempting to steal a bite of chicken from her plate. She playfully swatted his hand away from her food with her fork.

Popping the ill-gotten chicken in his mouth, Tom sat back and relished this moment. Just days ago he had stood in here alone, wondering if he would ever see her again. And now here she was, alive, vital… laughing.

Tom wondered if he had ever been happier than he was in that moment.

She suddenly stood and switched subjects, saying she was going to take a shower because she “smelled like a wet targ.” She asked if he cared to join her.

He stood as well and approached her. In a familiar dance, she raised her arms, looping them around his neck. His fingers trailed down her, grazing the soft fabric of her shirt, until they came to rest on the small of her back. “As much as I would like to, I am still on duty.”

“You are?” she asked.

“Yeah… and somehow I don’t think getting in the shower with you is within the scope of my official duties.”

She grinned at him. “I was just in Sickbay… maybe I need assistance showering from the medic?”

Tom laughed. “Then I would have to include it in my activity log,” He cleared his throat. “Fifteen hundred hours: helped Lieutenant Torres take a shower. Patient appeared more than healthy, keeping hands to myself was a major issue.”

B’Elanna picked up his tone, continuing the ‘log’. “However, the patient in no way wanted the medic to keep his hands to himself, welcomed any and all advances after two weeks of being apart.”

Tom groaned slightly and bent down to kiss her, but she dodged his advance. “Tom… I haven’t brushed my teeth in two weeks. I honestly don’t know how you are standing so close to me.”

Tom didn’t quite know how to express to her how he was feeling, the utter and overwhelming relief of having her in his arms again… and that her pungent odor really didn’t matter to him at the moment.

 “I… I just love you. And I’m so glad you’re back.”

He watched as her ‘what’s with the mushy stuff’ expression danced across her face. Rising up on her toes, she gave him a quick peck. “Alright, I’m going to get cleaned up. You’ll come back when you are done with your shift?”

Tom knew that when he returned in several hours, she would already be asleep. But he didn’t point that out. He only kissed her and promised to return as soon as he could.

And now he was standing in front of the _Flyer_. PADD in hand, he ventured inside, picking his way through the wreckage. Looking around, he could see how she had ripped apart the ship in her efforts to send them a message, to let them know where she was.

He noticed a bag of something that looked like trail mix was sitting on the engineering station chair. Taking a bite, he made a face. It was edible… but only barely. _No wonder she was malnourished_.

Tom started jotting down notes on what needed to be fixed, but really, it seemed like the answer was ‘everything.’ Moving to the back of the ship, he saw that, as usual, B’Elanna had not made a huge effort to keep her sleeping area tidy. The bed had not been stowed and the blankets were rumpled. Out of habit, he picked up the blanket to fold it when he saw it looking at him: Toby.

Exchanging the rough material of the standard issue survival blanket for the softness of the stuffed animal, Tom felt his throat constricting again. He looked at the time: still two more hours until the end of his shift.

He just couldn’t. He needed to be with her. Consequences be dammed.

He sent a note to Chakotay, requesting leave for the remainder of the shift and for the next day. Not bothering to see if the request was granted, he grabbed Toby and made his way back to B’Elanna’s. Stepping through the door, he saw that she was passed out in bed, a PADD, no doubt with a novel, tipped over backwards in her relaxed hand.

Standing beside the bed, he removed the PADD and replaced it with Toby. She grasped the small stuffed targ tightly in her sleep, just as he had seen her do many times before.

And in that moment, it finally clicked in Tom’s head. This was it. This was his life. She was his future; she would have his children.

She would be his wife.

Toeing off his boots, he felt a calm embrace him as this realization sunk in. B’Elanna was ‘the one’… the one you look for and hope you find.

He had found her.

Removing his uniform he sunk into bed, curling up behind her.

His wife. It felt right.

Now it was just a question of when to ask.

_fin_

 


End file.
